He hates how easily Steve starts jibing at him, prodding him, and that's got to be a sign that it's the better move, right?
Because this can't happen. Won't, and couldn't ever. Steve doesn't. He doesn't. It's nothing, and it's going to stay nothing, even as the skin of his fingers and palm burn like he removed them from dry ice, and not Steve's beltloop. "What, and have to spend time talking to someone else?"
He lets go of the lapel to tug at Steve's tie, sharp and possessive, before dropping his hand altogether, and leaning back on the bar, eyes sliding from Steve's face to the room behind him, because they're here on a job, not a date, and they'll both get their asses handed to them if their guy wanders in and out without either of them noticing. "You know I hate talking to people."
Which is true. It's even, probably, true of a place like this, if there's any reality in which he had the money or inclination to come to a place like this, but he doesn't. Not either. Call him a sap, but he's never been the guy for pick-up culture, to go to a bar just to bring someone home, get laid, never know their name or care about it. How could he? He's got a daughter. He's got a job that calls him out in the middle of the night. He's got a too-interested in his life, too-paranoid and too-dangerous Navy SEAL of a best friend, who thinks its his God-given right to burst in on Danny's life at any time of day or night without warning.
(And someone would find out. Some cop in HPD. Pass it along to Chin or Kono. And then Steve would know, and Danny would have to see what the rental situation is like for holes in the ground near Honolulu.)
But their guy isn't here, so he rolls his eyes at Steve, unimpressed, and feels immediately better for it. "Yeah, because you always make me buy you drinks, and I don't have the cash for an eighty dollar case of wine, let alone glass. I'm sorry, you want me to go grab your buddy? I've got a feeling he might be a little less pleasant after all that, but I'm sure he could be brought around."
He doesn't know why he says it, except he does. It's a reminder, right, that he can't have this, that Steve's as likely to want Mr. Panties-in-a-twist as he is to want Danny, and it comes out a little sharper than he intends, a little defensive, because he could have waited. Steve can handle himself. And he didn't have to make a thing out of it, could have just pulled Steve aside, like they planned for.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-10-05 12:27 am (UTC)He hates how easily Steve starts jibing at him, prodding him, and that's got to be a sign that it's the better move, right?
Because this can't happen. Won't, and couldn't ever. Steve doesn't. He doesn't. It's nothing, and it's going to stay nothing, even as the skin of his fingers and palm burn like he removed them from dry ice, and not Steve's beltloop. "What, and have to spend time talking to someone else?"
He lets go of the lapel to tug at Steve's tie, sharp and possessive, before dropping his hand altogether, and leaning back on the bar, eyes sliding from Steve's face to the room behind him, because they're here on a job, not a date, and they'll both get their asses handed to them if their guy wanders in and out without either of them noticing. "You know I hate talking to people."
Which is true. It's even, probably, true of a place like this, if there's any reality in which he had the money or inclination to come to a place like this, but he doesn't. Not either. Call him a sap, but he's never been the guy for pick-up culture, to go to a bar just to bring someone home, get laid, never know their name or care about it. How could he? He's got a daughter. He's got a job that calls him out in the middle of the night. He's got a too-interested in his life, too-paranoid and too-dangerous Navy SEAL of a best friend, who thinks its his God-given right to burst in on Danny's life at any time of day or night without warning.
(And someone would find out. Some cop in HPD. Pass it along to Chin or Kono. And then Steve would know, and Danny would have to see what the rental situation is like for holes in the ground near Honolulu.)
But their guy isn't here, so he rolls his eyes at Steve, unimpressed, and feels immediately better for it. "Yeah, because you always make me buy you drinks, and I don't have the cash for an eighty dollar case of wine, let alone glass. I'm sorry, you want me to go grab your buddy? I've got a feeling he might be a little less pleasant after all that, but I'm sure he could be brought around."
He doesn't know why he says it, except he does. It's a reminder, right, that he can't have this, that Steve's as likely to want Mr. Panties-in-a-twist as he is to want Danny, and it comes out a little sharper than he intends, a little defensive, because he could have waited. Steve can handle himself. And he didn't have to make a thing out of it, could have just pulled Steve aside, like they planned for.
He just didn't like the guy, okay.